Arthur's Secret Friend
by PoisnousPixie
Summary: Their mom didn't know about Gilbert; Arthur said not to tell her, that it was a secret... PrUk, Alfred's POV


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Rating:** M (Just in case)  
><strong>Main Character:<strong> America, England, Prussia, France, Belarus.  
><strong>Coupling:<strong> PrUK (Prussia+England), Side- AmeBela (America+Belarus)  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Their mom didn't know about Gilbert; Arthur said not to tell her, that it was a secret...  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> AU, un-beta'd, Vampire.

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><p>Alfred couldn't exactly remember at what point Gilbert started showing up. He didn't know how his big brother had met the man or why they seemed to spend so much time together. He did know, that after Gilbert showed up, Arthur started to drink a lot of orange juice, and sometimes he was really tired and pale in the morning. He would be grouchy and mean those days. Their mom worried a lot, but Arthur always brushed her off and said it was "Just a bad night."<p>

Their mom didn't know about Gilbert; Arthur said not to tell her, that it was a secret like Al's continued friendship with Natalya even after she broke his arm last summer, and mom got in a fight with Natalya's older brother. So, he didn't say anything about Gilbert to their mom, just like Arthur never mentioned Natalya to her. But he did worry. There were a lot of odd things that happened after Gilbert showed up.

Arthur had begun to withdraw from the few other friends he'd had. He didn't spend time with Kiku anymore, he stopped tutoring that French girl in her english classes. He came home straight after school, and would lock himself up in his room until dinner time, only coming down to eat, drink a glass of orange juice, make a cup of tea, and then no one would see him the rest of the night.

One day, Alfred had walked into Arthur's room while he was getting dressed and had seen the marks on him. He couldn't tell what they were, but they looked like a lot of little dots, and they were all over Arthur's shoulders and even a few were on his arms; there were fresh bruises along his shoulder, deep purple discolorations like something from a monster movie. Arthur didn't want to talk about it, and pushed Al out of his room, telling him to hurry and get ready for school.

At school, Al mentioned the marks to Tony. Tony was another friend he wasn't supposed to have, because he cursed too much. But Tony just brushed off everything Al had to say about Arthur, told him his older brother had probably just gotten his ass handed to him in a fight. Tony and Arthur didn't get along much. Al didn't put much stock into his ideas on the matter.

So Al asked Natalya, but she just said there were things people their age couldn't understand and that he should let it go. She didn't talk to him much for the rest of the day when he tried to press for more information. It wasn't until she threatened to break his arm again, that Al let it go. He didn't worry about it again, and for about a week there didn't seem to be anything to worry about at all. Arthur was his usual self, and Gilbert seemed to have disappeared.

Then Mom had a date, and Gilbert came over after she left. He brought a new video game with him, and while Alfred played it, Arthur and Gilbert disappeared up to Arthur's room. Al didn't remember when Gilbert left, he fell asleep playing the game, and only vaguely remembered someone picking him up and carrying him up to his room. In the morning, Arthur was pale, and a bit groggy. He said he was sick, and stayed home from school.

After a while, Gilbert stopped coming to the house for a while, but Arthur would come home from school tired and still woke up grouchy and weak. Mom finally took Arthur to a doctor. After a few tests that stretched over three weeks, and a lot of different things no one would talk to Alfred about, they decided they knew what the problem was. They gave Arthur a prescription for something to cure 'anemia'. After that, Arthur was never sick again.

He was more energized, he seemed stronger, healthier, but he was also more sensitive. The scent of things, how bright it was, all of these could drive Arthur to avoid rooms, to wear sunglasses when he never had before, to stay in his room when their mom was cooking or shy away when she wore perfume. He even stopped cooking himself- but Al thought that was an improvement.

Despite his being better, Al never saw Arthur take any of the pills. The pill bottle sat on Arthur's desk, untouched, except for on the days when mom would snoop in their rooms, the bottle would be gone then. Al never asked about it, Arthur had stopped being very friendly with him, and he didn't want to fight.

One night, really late, Al woke up from a dream he couldn't remember. There were odd noises coming from Arthur's room next to his. The creak of a bed like it was being jumped on, someone was panting, and there was a muffled keen. All so quiet Al wasn't sure if it was in his head or not. He got out of bed and tip toed out into the hall, and moved quietly towards Arthur's room. The noises stopped, and Alfred hesitated before pushing Arthur's door a little, peeking inside.

Arthur was laying, alseep. The window was wide open, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. Al left the room feeling confused and went back to his bed. He didn't noticed how Arthur's eyes opened as he left, or the clothes strewn across the floor, the hand Arthur held to a bleeding wound on his shoulder. He didn't hear when someone re-entered the room, and slid back into Arthur's bed.

When Arthur went to college, he called every night or morning, he sent letters and came home over any and all breaks. But there was something different about him. Something off in the shade of his eyes and the way he breathed.

Then, he stopped calling so much, and he didn't come home much at all. He disappeared subtly, quietly, and was gone without anyone really noticing.

Mom got married, Al and Natalya started to date. Their lives went on, and other then random points, they never worried about what had happened to Arthur. Didn't think of him much at all, unless someone else brought him up. The panic then would swell and consume, but as soon as it reached it's peak, it slid away. It was hard to hold onto memories and feelings about Arthur, like trying to grasp and hold the wind.

Alfred and Natalya married. Alfred's cousin from France came to visit a week before the wedding. They hadn't seen each other since Al was too little to even remember the Frenchman much. Their families were not particularly close, and when Francis' mother heard that Alfred was getting married, she pushed him to go to the wedding, patch things up. It was awkward at best, but both sides dealt with it.

However, when Francis inquired about Arthur, he was met with confusion, and Alfred's poor attempt to change the subject. Sensing something was not right, Francis began to investigate, and Alfred found himself being the main suspect, constantly badgered and ambushed.

One night, before the wedding, Francis asked Al a lot of questions about Arthur. About his health, and when he disappeared (though Alfred could not rememeber ever claiming his brother had disappeared). What kind of friends he'd had. Each question made Alfred's head hurt more and more. He tried to avoid them, but Francis was relentless, and eventually, Alfred gave in.

He talked about Arthur's odd anemia, and his sudden health. About the nights Alfred heard noises from his big brother's room, noises he couldn't understand until he was older himself and sneaking into Natalya's room on the nights her brother had work. Then how Arthur went away, and eventually stopped coming back.

Finally, with much prodding and pushing, Alfred remembered Gilbert. The albino that was supposed to be a secret friend. He remembered the marks on Arthur's skin, and the deep red of Gilbert's eyes.

And he didn't want to remember any more.

Francis let it drop. After the wedding, he didn't go back to Paris like he'd originally planned. He stayed in a nice hotel in town, and gave the newly wed couple their space for a month or so. Then he pushed for more details.

Al started to fear Francis's visits. They came with memories he didn't know he had, that he forgot as soon as Francis would leave, and headaches that lasted for days. Natalya threatened Francis once, told him to stay away from her husband. Francis said something to her that frightened her to the core. She didn't want to talk about it, and told Al to just try not to be bothered by Francis.

"Don't let him get to you." She said.

Al never found out what Francis had said to her. Francis didn't stop coming around.

Then, one night, Alfred remembered something more important than anything else he'd remembered.

He remembered coming home early one night. It had been christmas break, he was supposed to be at his friend's hockey game, but he'd gotten into a fight with someone from the other team and Natalya drove him home before the game was over with a busted lip, swollen nose and bruised knuckles. She'd kissed his cheek, called him a wimp, and went back to the game to see the end of it.

The house was quiet. Mom had a business meeting, and was going to dinner with her at-the-time-boyfriend, so the only person home was Arthur. Alfred had seen a lot of horror movies in his life. He'd seen so many vampire movies he could quote vampire lore better then he could the work he memorized for school. But no movie could have gotten him ready for the sight he met as he entered the house.

The light in the living room was off, but the tv bathed the room in a pale blue light. The only sound Alfred could hear was the static at first, but soon, the slap of flesh, and heavy panting- similar to that night so long ago, reached his ears. He meant to move passed the room, didn't want to intrude even if his brother should have had the decency to take it to his bedroom. The sight of blood out of the corner of his eye made Al double take.

Red dripped down Arthur's front, stained his shirt, and dribbled down his chin, coating his mouth and cheeks red. His face was flushed beneath the bright shiny red blood, body straining, head thrown back against the shoulder of the man whose lap he sat. Alfred didn't recognize the man at first. He hadn't seen Gilbert in years, and the man was not easily seen, his own head lowered, mouth latched onto Arthur's shoulder where the red seemed to be coming from. His arms had Al's brother in a possessive hold, as if he owned Arthur, and when he looked up the sentiment seemed to be reflected in those bright, glowing eyes.

Alfred panicked. Gilbert stopped his movements, and Arthur's attention was drawn to Al, just as the American gasped, and almost turned to run. But he was frozen, Gilbert's gaze locked with his, and he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't _think_. That was the last time Alfred had seen Arthur.

He could remember yelling. ("What are you doing to him! Gilbert, stop!") A voice in his head telling him it was okay, and nothing had happened, and Arthur was going to be fine, and don't _look for him_.

Alfred never did look. He never questioned the voice, or the odd calm that fell over him after. The fact that he knew he had a brother, he just never really thought of him. That his mother never seemed bothered by the disappearance of her eldest son.

He told Francis about it all, while sitting on the couch in his own living room, head cradled in his hands. Natalya lurked in the kitchen, watching from around the door, nervous and worried, furious at Francis. Francis listened, never saying a word, seeming to take in everything and memorizing it. After a long time, when Alfred had stopped talking, and the pounding in his head became so painful he was nearly in tears, Francis leaned forward, a serious expression on his face, and spoke. "Would you like to find your brother, Alfred?"

Al didn't know how to respond. Natalya moved to stand fully in the doorway, one hand bunched in her skirt, the other resting over her stomach, eyes locked on Alfred. Alfred, who was unseeing, unfocused, couldn't think. His head throbbed. He looked up at Francis with watery blue eyes, confusion and a hint of fear darkening his vision.

Did he? Did he really want to find Arthur? Arthur, who could be dead, who had never thought to contact them if he wasn't. Arthur, who disappeared.

His throat closed, and his mouth grew dry. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to _think_. His eyes flickered to his wife, then back to the man before him. **"Yes."**


End file.
